Sleep didn’t come easy after paperwork and Cassian’s hand in hers.
Lyra made it back to the cabin, brushed her teeth on autopilot, stared at herself in the bathroom mirror for a long time. Same face. Same pale scar along her jaw, courtesy of a rogue with bad timing. Same eyes that still looked for exits first.
Different background.
She killed the light and slid into bed. The mattress had the faint, familiar dip of her body now. The room smelled like pine, metal, and Hollow Ridge, not like anywhere she’d ever stayed “just for a job.”
Her wolf curled up, content.
Her brain did not.
It took its usual tour: the Council hall, Silas’s eyes, Jonah’s voice, the circle in the ravine, Cassian in the kitchen saying here like it was the easiest thing.
Somewhere between thinking about ward logs
